


If I Didn't Have You

by KarrieBW



Category: South Park
Genre: Blackmail, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, Gen, Liane Has Adopted Scott Here, M/M, Scott Being Creepy, Swearing, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29070180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarrieBW/pseuds/KarrieBW
Summary: Eric is dared to paint the sixth-graders' desks during lunch break, but things don't go quite as planned. So now three sixth-graders are after him and there's no one to help him. (Except maybe his most hated enemy.)
Relationships: Eric Cartman & Scott Tenorman, Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman (only as a joke by Scott)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	If I Didn't Have You

**Author's Note:**

> The title is borrowed from a Disney song from the movie "Quest for Camelot". I don't know why, I just think it would be a good fit for Eric and Scott with a few changes in the lyrics.
> 
> Also, the amount of attention Scott gets when compared to characters like Tricia is non-existent, so I'm trying to fix that a little.

“Alright Cartman, truth or dare?” Kyle asked.

A group comprised of six fourth-graders was taking up a table at the corner of the school cafeteria, having decided to pass the remaining time of their lunch break by playing the ever so banal game of truth or dare. Stan, Kyle and Jimmy were sitting next to each other on one of the benches, while Kenny, Eric and Butters sat opposite of them.

Jimmy hanging out with them wasn’t always the case, but when he heard they would be playing truth or dare he sort of invited himself over. As for Butters, well, Butters was a loser and Eric wouldn’t really mind if he could use the game as an excuse to embarrass or fluster him a little, so he all but forced the blonde boy to play with them.

That sneaky Jew… Eric should be careful with his pick when it came to Kyle – he knew. Logically, the safest option was truth. But there was no way he would pick that. Everyone else had taken a turn before him and all except Stan and Butters had picked dare.

“Dare, of course. Truth is for pussies”. He replied comfortably, taking a generous sip from his chocolate milk.

Kyle seemed to be thinking for a moment. “I dare you to paint the sixth graders’ desks”.

“Do I look like a fucking oil painter to you, Jew boy?”

“Let me finish, fatass. I dare you to paint their desks _by_ writing curse words on them”.

The four other children gasped at the same time.

“Dude, isn’t that too risky?" Stan asked his so-called 'SBF'. "The sixth graders are gonna come after him if they learn who did it".

The sixth graders were notorious for picking on them on a frequent basis, even when they were just minding their own business. A normal person wouldn’t risk the situation escalating for the worse. But Kyle wasn’t normal, was he?

No, he was a cunning rat that would stop at nothing to hurt and humiliate Eric.

“Y-yeah. Who knows what they could d-d-do to him”. Jimmy agreed.

“Don’t do it, Eric! It’s too risky”. Butters squeaked, his concern only adding to his irritation.

In the meantime, Kenny, insensitive as he was, had nearly doubled over in muffled laughter.

Kyle just stared at him, his glassy eyes challenging. “We still have some time before lunch break is over, you know”.

Eric never backed down from a challenge. _Especially_ when Kyle was the one that challenged him.

“Alright, fine!” He stood up abruptly, even though he wasn’t finished drinking his milk. It didn’t matter. This shouldn’t take too long. “I’m gonna paint their desks, and when it’s my turn again, I’ll get you back, Kahl!”

Stealing a bucket of yellow paint and a few brushes from the janitor’s closet wasn’t hard. That old geezer was rarely around anyway. Swift and quiet as an experienced spy, he sneaked into the Sixth Grade classroom.

Their leader’s desk – the one that usually egged the rest on to go after them – was the best one for him to start his ‘decorating’ from. (Eric didn’t know his name, or any of the others’ names for that matter, and neither did he care. He just recognised the schoolbag the older student was always carrying with him, therefore the desk next to it was his.)

He set the bucket on the floor, picking up a thin brush and dipping it in bright yellow paint, but stopping before he could write anything. He rested his chin on his free hand for a moment, in thought.

“Hmm… Let’s see…” He had to write something special for the leader. He was the one that caused them the most problems after all. Not much later, Eric snickered, as he immediately had just the right kind of inspiration. “Heh… Serves you right, asshole”.

He proceeded to let his inspiration roam free as he deftly redecorated the previously blank desk.

Eric never did have trouble with getting creative with words, so he tapped into that talent fully, finishing with the desks of the other two boys in less than two minutes. He smiled proudly as he admired his handwork.

Sure, the sixth graders might be a little scary sometimes, and Kyle definitely is a dirty Jew, but he would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he got at least some enjoyment out of this.

He inhaled the slight acidic smell of the paint as he picked the bucket up, carrying it back to its place. A carefree smile made its way to his face as he hummed along to the melody of an old Britney Spears song. He had successfully made fun of the sixth graders without them noticing, _and_ he would find a way to get back at Kyle once it was his turn again the next time they played.

His inner peace and satisfaction were short-lived, however, as he heard laughter coming from the end of the hallway. Eric would recognise those ugly, shrill from the gradual transition to puberty voices anywhere. If those horny morons saw him coming out of their classroom he was done for.

Seeing no other option, Eric ducked and hid behind a trashcan, only hoping it was wide enough to hide his big-boned body effectively. He hugged the bucket close to his chest, gulping as the three passed by him. Fortunately, they were too busy trying to get a turn each at looking at a porn magazine, one like those that Kenny stored in his room.

Eric saw that as his opportunity to escape, getting up and starting to run before they could turn around.

Now, Eric was excellent at so many areas, but running was not one of them. He was exceptional at that too, mind you, he just… the floor was wet because some bitch had moped earlier. And he slipped. Yeah, totally. He didn’t trip because he was too anxious not to get caught or anything.

The sound he made when he fell couldn't have been that loud, but the damn sixth-graders turned their stupid heads regardless.

"Hey, fourthie! What do you think you’re doing?” The boy in the ugly, green t-shirt – the leader – yelled.

They’d probably know what he did immediately once they entered the classroom. It didn’t need that much of a brain. So no point in trying to make up excuses.

He simply ignored them, standing on his feet despite the pain he felt on his knees from the fall and ran again. He ran faster than he knew his legs could take him, reaching the janitor’s closet quite quickly and practically throwing the bucket back inside. Eric looked around frantically, but not calming down in the least when he saw no sixth graders around.

A teacher. He needed to find a teacher. They would protect him until it was time to go home.

During the few minutes between classes he lunged himself at Mr Mackey every recess, claiming he had a lot of psychological issues he needed to talk about, not even letting the man go to the bathroom to make sure the sixth graders couldn’t come near him.

Mr Mackey eyed him suspiciously at first, as he had every right to do, but he couldn't deny him the mental support Eric requested when he was being so kind and sweet. The others rose their eyebrows when they saw him practically clinging to their counsellor like that, but they didn't even ask him why and they went to the playground without him! (Kyle must have been planning this for weeks. Truth or dare was his idea, so it was a plan to get rid of him all along! No matter, he could deal with the Jew tomorrow.)

It was the first time in his life that Eric Cartman begged for the school day to never be over. (Well, it was actually the second time, but he couldn’t be thinking of Wendy right now.) Mr Mackey's protection wouldn't last forever. In a few minutes, the last bell would ring and the sixth graders would be free to get him. He saw the way they were staring at him, like enraged predators ready to pounce at any given minute.

He couldn’t craft a way to get detention this time either. They could be waiting for him outside the school, waiting until detention was over and then they would get him! He needed to get home before they managed to catch him.

Eric packed his books and pencils in his yellow backpack and put it on his shoulders, not taking it off even when he was told to by Mrs Nelson. He needed to be prepared. The moment the bell rang, he jumped off his chair like a rocket, launching himself out of the door before Mrs Nelson could even finish her last sentence. He was fast enough to avoid the daily commotion in the hallways, being the first to exit the school.

The brown-haired boy was panting as he bent, propping his hands on his knees, but he knew he couldn't stop. So he gathered some oxygen with a deep breath and ran to the direction of his house.

Soon there was a stabbing pain in his ribcage. If this were Physical Education, he’d just demand a break, for he couldn’t tolerate living in inhuman conditions, but if he stopped now it would be over for him. Eric turned his head over his shoulder multiple times (sometimes resulting in him colliding with a few other pedestrians in the process) but he never got a single glimpse of a sixth-grader.

After thinking about it for a little bit, he slowed down, walking in a fast trot. His house was only two blocks away anyway. He could cover that distance.

Besides, he didn’t know if his lungs could take much more. By the time he stopped running, he was heaving.

Eric walked quietly for a while. He could feel his breath stabilizing and his nerves relaxing. It was one of those winter days that brought dusk extremely early, so the sun had already begun to descend, but it was warm outside. (Well, what is considered warm for a mountain town.) It was actually a pretty nice afternoon. 

“There he is! Get him!”

Three very, very angry sixth-graders emerged from an alley, and they certainly didn't look like they wanted to have a nice, civil discussion with him.

“…Crap…” Eric muttered. His legs felt like they couldn’t carry him any longer if he ran. But there was no other choice. He could see his house. He would make it.

They were advancing dangerously close to him, but it didn’t matter because Eric finally, finally reached his house. He grabbed the doorknob, opening the front door faster than he ever had before, and slammed it behind him loudly once he was inside. His nervous hands fumbled hastily with the key for a moment before managing to turn it into the lock twice.

Only then did Eric manage to calm down a little. He exhaled in relief and let his exhausted body slide down slowly against the door. If he wasn’t so tired, he would have definitely pulled over some furniture from the living room, just to make sure they couldn’t get in.

“You think this is over? You’re gonna pay, fourthie!”

“That’s right! So stop hiding, you pussy!”

“Yeah! Come out so we can teach you a lesson!”

Eric’s eyes widened as he came to a terrific realization. How would he face them the next day at school? They wouldn’t stop, not until they got him back. He needed help, from someone with an authority higher than his.

The teachers were out of the question. The sixth graders would tell on him and then he’d get detention or something worse.

Mom couldn't deal with it either. She wouldn't be back until late at night and Eric couldn't possibly wait for that long. Those morons might break-in at any moment now!

That left no one except…

“Thanks but I don’t think I’ll go. Yes, I know you’ll bring Jenny along. Well, I told you, I’ve still got homework to do”.

Hmm… Maybe it was time for a certain asshole to finally be useful and do something else other than screw him over… As much as Eric didn’t like the idea of asking _him_ of all people for help.

(Why was that retard here though? Shouldn’t he be at school right now?...Meh, who gives a crap?)

Eric got to his feet, tossed his backpack from his shoulders off to a random corner of the living room and marched upstairs.

“No, of course fatty didn't let me study over the weekend. He invited his dumb friends over and they played superheroes or some shit…"

He was nearing the room the annoying voice was coming from. Pushing the half-closed door open, he saw the second day-walker that insisted on making his life harder. The disgusting ginger was sitting in front of his desk, with his back turned to Eric, wearing a pair of hideous headphones and talking on the phone. And calling him fat on top of that!

Eric obviously couldn’t wait until he was done, so he snatched the phone from the desk and the headphones from his ears, ending the call.

An aggravated Scott turned his chair around to face him, but Eric couldn’t care less about his anger now. “What the hell, piggy?” 

The totally misplaced derogatory name at the end of the sentence had to go without commentary, there was no time for that. “Scott, you’ve got to help me!” He sounded panicked, and he really was. Sure, the sixth graders had gone after them before, but they never targeted just one person. And he sure as hell wouldn’t ask the others for help because he couldn’t admit he was caught in the act.

“No”. Responded the grumpy teenager without a second thought before pulling his phone back.

“Come on, Scott, don’t be a douche!”

“Ask someone else”.

“I can’t, okay? Why else do you think I’m here right now?”

“Give me one good reason why I should help you”. He had already begun texting somebody, probably the one he was talking to earlier, to inform him all about how his ‘evil little brother’ had interrupted their conversation.

“Well… you can prove that gingers may have a tiny fraction of a soul in them after all”.

“Not good enough. Try again”.

Just when Eric was getting fed up with him, someone slammed their fists on the door downstairs, shouting threats that were lost in the distance. Eric was terrified regardless, hiding under Scott’s desk before he could think about it twice. What if they broke down the door?

“You’re gonna die, fourthie!” Came the muffled yelling from outside. Eric could swear he felt his arms tremble.

“Hey, get out of there! And go outside. Don’t keep them waiting”.

“Nuh-uh”.

“What did you do?” Scott asked with a tired sigh, as if he was his fucking caretaker.

“Nothing!” Eric felt a harsh pull at his ear, forcing him to come out of his hiding place. “Ow! Cut it off, you dickhead!”

“What did you do, piggy?”

“God damn it, I didn’t do anything!” Why did he always have to be guilty?

Scott didn’t seem convinced. Never letting go of his poor ear, he got up and dragged Eric to the window with him none too gently. He pulled the curtains, revealing the exasperated sixth graders that still waited outside their door. Jeez, hadn’t these guys gotten bored?

“I’m listening”.

Finally, his abused ear was let go of and Eric rubbed it to make sure it hadn’t stretched out. “Why do you want to know?”

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what you did”.

“Alright, alright… I painted their desks and wrote curse words on them and now they’re after me”.

“You’re gonna get out at some point!” Their vocal cords should have been damaged irreversibly after so much yelling. “And when you do, you’re dead!” It seemed that they had something better to do after all because they turned around at last and started walking away.

“See?” Eric said. “They wanna kill me!”

“Oh, so they’re just reasonable people?”

“What? Did _that_ seem reasonable to you?” He pointed accursedly towards the window. “They’re nuts!”

“They have every right to be angry”. Scott walked away from the window, picking up a comic and sitting back on his chair. (Didn’t he have homework to do?) “I’d be angry too if some retard like you painted my desk”.

“Don’t call me a retard, you ginger!”

“Whatever. So why’d you do it? Had nothing better to do than cause problems?”

“If you must know, it was a dare”.

“God, kids still play truth or dare? It’s so done”.

Eric didn’t come here to listen to his stupid opinions! “So are you gonna help me or not?”

“Nope”. The redhead turned the page of his dumb Batman comic. “I never said I’d help you”.

“Oh yeah? Well I don’t need you anyway, you good-for-nothing, butt-licking piece of ginger shit! Go fuck yourself!”Eric yelled, beyond angry with his useless half-brother, striding proudly out of the room.

“Uh-huh”. He just sat there passively! Eric hated it when he was ignored.

He waited outside for a few seconds, tapping his foot impatiently. Maybe he should try this again. He turned back.

“Missed me already, didn’t you, little brother?”

Clenching his fists at his side, Eric swallowed his pride. It was either that or he would never get away from them. “Scott, I realise now that what I said to you was wrong, and I’d like to apologize”. He regrettably bent his head a little. “Please Scott help me”. He mumbled.

“What’s in for me?”

Eric gritted his teeth angrily. “…What do you want?”

He finally lifted his head from the comic. “Well, for starters, I want my old life back…-“

“I’m the Grand Wizard King, not the Time Wizard, in case you haven’t noticed, dumbass”.

“…But seeing as that’s not an option, I guess having you do one thing that I tell you without being able to refuse would be enough”.

“You just can’t help another person without being a dick, can you?”

“I don’t do charity, Eric”. Scott reminded him with a pretentiously sweet smile that exposed his ugly braces – as if he needed to be reminded of that.

And although he was seething inside, he didn’t have a choice. “I’m not gonna beg you though, you sick freak!” Eric panicked when the smile widened. “Oh, no, no, no! And you can’t kill me either”.

“No, Eric, I don’t want you to beg me. And who said anything about killing you? It’s just one tiny little thing that came to my mind – we don’t even have to talk about it now. It can wait until after I help you get rid of Jackson”.

…What was the worst thing Scott could make him do? Eric might have been more hesitant in his agreement, if it weren’t for the new information that emerged. “Wait, you know the leader of the sixth graders?”

“Yeah, we’ve talked a time or two. I tricked him into watching his first porno when he was in third grade”.

Hmm… maybe that could be useful for the future… “Kewl, I didn’t want to have to introduce you first”. He moved to the teen’s side, tugging at his arm. “Come on, let’s go find him”.

“Wait. I want to finish this chapter first”.

“Scott, come oooon!” Eric tried pushing him off the chair, but the ginger wouldn’t budge.

“Do you want my help or not? If you do, I’d say it isn’t in your best interests to irritate me. So be a good little piggy and wait for me to finish reading”.

“Jesus Christ, I hate you!” Eric spat, practically hitting his feet on the floor on his way out.

“And I hate you too”.

When Scott deigned to put his comic down the sun had almost set. But Eric supposed it was still better than waiting for Mom.

The sixth graders usually hanged out a park near the Town Hall, so that’s where they would go. If this was Mom, they would have taken the car. But because this was Scott, and Scott was a loser and therefore had no car, they had to _walk_. Fucking _walk._ And no matter how many times Eric said was tired and asked to be picked up, the asshole ignored him! Not to mention he didn’t even buy him candy!

However impossibly long the distance had seemed to Eric, he knew that South Park wasn’t a very big town, so logically they couldn’t be walking for more than fifteen minutes. They found the sixth graders violently kicking a ball at each other, probably plotting their petty revenge.

Eric walked to them, leaving Scott a few steps behind him. Jackson was the first to spot him. “Well, well, if it isn’t the little fourthie. Came to have your ass kicked?” The other two boys cracked their knuckles eagerly, but all three stopped dead in their tracks when they saw Scott approaching, his not-so-muscular but nonetheless tall form appearing threatening to them. “Woah, dude, no way! Scott Tenorman? Weren’t you in the nuthouse?”

Their faces had paled in a matter of seconds and they took a step back and Eric gave them a sly smile, moving next to Scott’s side. (Damn, he looked taller from this close.)

“Yeah, the guy that ate his parents and went insane and…and…" The one wearing a grey hat stuttered.

"Now, boys, you shouldn't believe every rumour you hear. But I'm not here to talk to you about critical thinking. I'm here because my little brother informed me you've been…picking on him?" He arched a red eyebrow, a dead-serious expression on his face in an attempt to be intimidating. It might not have worked on Eric, but it did wonders for the sixth graders.

“Your brother?” Two of them asked at the same time.

“Picking on him?” Jackson parroted. “Dude, Scott you don’t know what that little shit did to us!”

"Yes, that's right, my brother". Scott said, smiling, and pulled Eric closer to him. Ew, gross. He smelled like a ginger. Eric wouldn’t have allowed something like this normally, but the sixth graders would be more afraid if they knew that Scott was willing to protect him. So he let his _half_ -brother wrap his arm around his shoulders (practically hugging him – gross, gross, gross!), even played along by leaning onto him a little. “So he painted your desks and wrote some stuff on them. Big deal. Learn how to take a joke”.

“He wrote ‘I’m a cock-sucking slut’ on my desk!” Jackson protested desperately.

“He wrote ‘I’m a fucking faggot’ on mine!”

“And he wrote ‘I’m a retarded, poor son of a bitch’ on mine!”

They each took their turn to complain, and that wasn’t even half of what he had written.

“Oh, Scott, it was terrible!” Eric decided it was time to take action. He was enjoying this just fine so far – their terrified expressions, their helpless, small voices – but personal involvement always made revenge sweeter. On perfect coordination with his words and expression, the first tears started to fall. “The thing is, I tried to make a joke but… but they started chasing me and they were all so meaaaan to meeee! And... and it’s not like I know what any of those words meaaaan!” Nearly wailing by now, he fisted Scott’s black t-shirt in his hands, burying his face at the teen’s side. (Jesus, did the guy ever eat? His forehead only found bones to lean to.)

He felt skinny fingers run through his hair, almost like a caress. (Disgusting. He’d definitely take a shower and wash his hair later.)

“I’m sure you don’t, little brother”. (…Was that sarcasm?) “See, boys? There were no bad intentions here. So, being the older and more mature ones in the situation, you should apologize”. 

Their expressions ranged from desperate to plain frustrated.

“What? No way we’re apologizing!”

“If anything…” Jackson added. “…fatty here should be the one apologizing to us!”

It was possible that Scott was waiting precisely for this comment. “Now, listen here, and listen well. If any of you so much as calls Eric fat one more time, I will personally see to it that you’ll never want to get out of bed to go to school again. Jackson knows I don’t play around either”.

“We’re not scared of you!” The bravest one dared to say. “What, just because you’re in high school you think you can…-”

“Dude, no”. Jackson cut him off. “Believe me, we don’t wanna mess with Scott Tenorman”. He clenched his hands into fists at his side, seemingly swallowing a lump in his throat. “We’re…sorry, Eric”.

The other two looked at each other incredulously, before following the example of their leader. “…We’re sorry Eric”.

Oh, this was so sweet! He couldn’t wait to tell Kyle and the others that he got the sixth graders to apologize to him. But mostly Kyle.

“Really?” Eric sniffed in a childish voice, wiping the tears with the sleeve of his red jacket. “Then say it again”.

They glanced at Scott helplessly, who only returned the look in a condescending way, urging them to go on.

“We’re sorry Eric”. They said in unison, defeated.

“Oh, it’s alright you guys, I forgive you!” Eric said with a chirpy smile.

The only way this day could get better would be the legalization of burning a Jew alive.

“That wasn’t so difficult now, was it? I’m glad we were able to talk this out”. Scott said. “But maybe it’s time for you to go home. It’s getting late”. The three boys, powerless to do much more, picked up their ball, walking away slowly like dogs with their tails between their legs. It was such a fulfilling sight to see sixth graders in such a state. “Oh, and…guys?” They looked back fearfully. “I wouldn’t tell about this to my parents if I were you”. He reminded them, giving them a meaningful look.

They got on their pitiful bikes, pedalling as fast as they could to get away.

Scott waited until they disappeared from their sight and let go of the chocolate-brown tufts of Eric’s hair, wiping his hand on his pants. Eric was happy to finally be able to pull himself away from him too.

“That was sweet!” He exclaimed excitedly. The redhead simply started walking back to their house, with a neutral expression on his face, as if what he just did hadn’t affected him at all. “Hey, wait up!” It wasn’t too difficult to catch up with him, as Scott hadn’t managed to go too far yet. “Okay, so, don’t tell anyone I said this, but that was kickass!”

“I know”.

“Did you see how they all ran off? They looked ready to fucking piss themselves!”

“It’s been some time since I last dealt with sixth graders, actually, so I was a bit rusty, but that went well”.

“Sure it did, those assholes learned not to mess with me again!”

And for once, they trudged along, side by side, for a few yards without trying to kill each other or otherwise fight. The lack of verbal or physical violence did feel out of place, but Eric shrugged it off, supposing they would make up for that later.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad day after all. Stretching out on the couch and watching TV while petting Mr Kitty and eating a bag of Cheesy Poofs certainly felt nice. Scott had closed himself in his room for over half an hour now, so he practically had the house all to himself. Such a rare and enjoyable occurrence. No one to complain about him eating while lying down (that was Mom) or bitching about getting crumbs on the couch (and that was obviously Scott).

Mr Kitty hopped off the couch when the click of a door being opened was heard. Damn it. Mr Kitty was scared of Scott because the douche hated cats. (Of course he did. What kind of being with a soul didn't like cats?)

When the older boy had come downstairs Eric pretended not to have noticed, keeping his eyes glued to the television. A rerun of Terrance and Philip was about to start.

“Move your ass, piggy”.

“No way, I was here first”. He replied, his mouth still full.

“Alright, we can do this the hard way”.

Scott moved directly in front of him, his hands latching onto the fabric of Eric’s clothes, trying to drag his body off the edge of the couch.

“Ay!” Eric complained loudly, struggling to keep his ground and not be thrown off. “Stop it, you gaywad!” This shouldn’t be working, for he was very buff and Scott seemed so skinny, but apparently the bastard was stronger than he looked.

Maybe the scheming ginger got another idea, because he abandoned his attempt to throw Eric on the floor. Instead, he grabbed the remote, which was somewhat recklessly left lying unguarded on the table, and got on the couch, in the space he had forced Eric to make, lying sideways behind him, bracing his face on his palm.

So now his back was practically touching Scott’s chest. Yuck…

“That can work too…” The jerk commented.

“No it can’t, get off”. Eric moved his foot to kick him with his heel, as one last effort to shoo him away, but a knee kicked him back. “God damn it, I was here first!”

“So?”

He would have answered to the pointless question, if it weren’t for the channel being changed. “Hey! Terrence and Philip was about to come on!”

“Well, _I_ don’t like Terrence and Philip. Its humour is sordid and it only helps that mushy brain of yours become even mushier than it already is”. He said as he was zapping through the channels.

“Fuck you Scott, your taste is shitty! Terrance and Philip is awesome”.

Nothing that the other channels had was as interesting as Terrance and Philip. There were so many game shows it was ridiculous, a few soap operas and a football game that Eric almost hadn’t gotten the chance to see was on. Scott had changed the channel so fast he barely got a glimpse of the green field.

In the end, they settled for watching a sitcom, since there was nothing decent and _someone_ refused to watch the best show ever.

At some point, Eric spotted a pale, bony hand trying to steal his precious Cheesy Poofs. He slapped it away the moment he saw it. “No, Scott! These are _my_ Cheesy Poofs! Get your own!”

“Sharing is caring, Eric”.

“Then I’m not giving you anything because I don’t care about you”.

A few peaceful seconds passed, the only dialogue in the room being the sappy, romantic one that came from the TV.

“…Is that Kyle by the window?”

Now Eric was alarmed. “What? Kahl?” He redirected his gaze at the window as quickly as possible, only to find no Jews standing outside of the house. He got an idea as to what was happening when he heard the stifled giggles behind him. Upon looking behind him, he found a handful of Cheesy Poofs in Scott’s hand – that soulless husk had fooled him again!

“It’s so damn unbelievable how you always fall for the cheapest tricks!” The soulless husk in question said, miserably failing to contain his laughter. “Haven’t learned your lesson since the pube fair, have you?”

“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, Scott. Give me back my Cheesy Poofs now. They’re _mine_!” 

“That’s funny because they’re in _my_ hand”.

“Yeah, because you stole them, asshole!”

Soon the Cheesy Poofs were brought dangerously close to his mouth… and that freaking tampon actually ate them! Eric could just feel the pain of the Cheesy Poofs now, as they were being scratched by his braces.

“Try and take them from me now, porky”. The monster licked his lips in satisfaction.

“You’re a disease, that’s what you are”.

They kept on bickering about the stolen treats for a while more, before a fight on the screen captured their attention. There was a period of unspoken truce, as they both watched the development of the rather standard plot.

“So why were you at home when I came back anyway?” Eric asked, getting bored of only watching without talking.

“Someone played a prank. Called the school and told them there was a bomb in the building, so they had no choice but to let us go to check”.

“Lucky you…”

“Not really. Because then I came here and I saw your face”.

“Ha! As if you could live without seeing my handsome face at least twice a day, you stalker! What would you do if you didn’t have me to stalk?”

“It’d be very hard at first, but I’d make it”. Now he was lying. Eric knew Scott lived only to make his life miserable and to screw him over.

“… Why didn’t you go out with your friends?” That question was posed a bit hesitantly. Eric didn’t really care, the show was just boring.

“I didn’t feel like going out today”.

“Why?”

“None of your business”. And then the prop he had been leaning his back on was gone, causing him to almost fall back. “Come on, now”. Scott said when he had gotten up. “You have a debt to settle”.

Eric had nearly forgotten about this… He wasn’t exactly ecstatic to let Scott humiliate him – because he’d undoubtedly try to – but he couldn’t think of a way to escape from this completely unscathed. “…What do you want me to do?”

“Come to my room, and I’ll tell you”.

Well, that sounded ominous…

“So…” Scott began, in a suspiciously dangerous gleefulness. He picked up his cellphone and made himself comfortable on the bed. “…What was it that you wrote on that kid’s desk again?”

“I don’t freaking remember, Scott! I wrote lots of stuff!”

“Well, I remember something along the lines of ‘fucking faggot’. Do you have a problem with gay people, Eric?”

He defensively crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So what if I did?”

“I was just thinking it’s gonna cause you big problems, considering you are one yourself”.

His eyes widened to an impossible degree at hearing the totally untrue assumption. He definitely wasn’t gay and he told Scott so. “I’m not a fag!”

“Really? Then I’d like you to explain this to me”. The cellphone that wasn’t an iPhone was held in front of him, and a video with mediocre quality started to play.

It looked like the video had been filmed in a basketball court. An oddly familiar basketball court…

_“…And I swear…I’ll be there, Kahl…”_ The Eric in the video sang from the gigantic screen of the court.

The Eric at present went rigid. A few drops of sweat ran at the back of his neck and he didn’t know what to say for a few moments. “…Where…-” He began asking, but his voice came out too small and too squeaky for his liking, so he cleared his throat before speaking again. “Where did you find that?”

“I was there too”. Scott tapped on the screen to make the video stop.

“How?”

“It’s a free country, brother. I can go anywhere I want to. And when I witnessed that tender love confession, I knew I just had to get it on tape. So…Kyle, huh? I wouldn’t have guessed”.

“That wasn’t a confession, dipshit!” Eric protested. “It was a plan!”

“A plan to win him over?”

“No! A plan to get Token and Nichole together because they’re both black! But the stupid Jew butted in and invited her to the game so I had to make sure he was unavailable so she’d fall in Token’s arms. God, it’s not that hard to grasp!” He explained, almost having an urge to pull at his hair for not being understood when it was such simple logic.

“…You are one very confused little piggy, Eric”. So now apparently he had become an expert on sexuality, that smartass. Eric knew for a fact that he was very manly and straight as a ruler. He knew himself. “But that’s okay. Big brother is here to help make things clear”.

“I’m not confused, asshole, I’m straight!”

Scott didn’t bother replying to his correction, only tapped at the screen of the phone a couple of times, to start the video. “Alright, now get down on your knees”.

(…Seriously what was with Scott and asking him to get on his knees? That creep…)

Eric sneered at him, giving him a deadly look that would have made most of his peers put at least a ten-foot distance between them and him, but he did – unwillingly – kneel.

“Introduce yourself”. He ordered, but Eric said nothing, just kept glaring at him. “Come on, say: ‘I’m Eric Cartman’”.

“…I’m Eric Cartman…”

“‘And I like boys’ ”.

“What?!” He was beyond furious, his rage practically boiling inside of him. Oh, he would get Scott back big time when this was over…

“Don’t be shy now. It’s easier to let it out, little brother”.

God only knew how much it angered him when he called him that… They were only half-brothers god damn it!

“…And I like boys…” Eric grumbled, the false statement being near unintelligible because of his attempt not to scream.

“Good. Now say: 'I'm a fag'". A twisted smirk spread itself across the wicked redhead's lips – the sick bastard was revelling too much in his suffering. 

It was getting harder to swallow, it felt as though tears could spring out of his eyes any moment now. Not that he would give _him_ that kind of satisfaction. “…I’m… I’m a…” He couldn’t do it. Fags were such disgusting hippies!

“What are you, little piggy?”

“…I’mafag…” He said quickly, hoping the words would get blurred enough for someone to mishear this as something else.

Despite that, Scott was not disappointed. “That’ll do. Now, lean forward, using your hands”. Eric did so, putting his palms on the floor, so half his weight was carried by his knees, and half by his hands. The position felt off somehow, perverted. “Good. For our finale, I want you to say: ‘I like taking dick’”.

Eric erupted. He’s had enough of this bullshit. “Okay, fuck this, and fuck you, Scott! No way in hell am I saying that!” He made to get up, but a foot landing sharply on his shoulder prevented that. It was a mistake to think he couldn’t be reached from where he had chosen to sit.

“Leave now and sixth graders will be the least of your problems. How would you like to see that damn cat of yours beheaded?”

Not Mr Kitty! Scott would do it too, he was completely nuts. "You're a monster!"

The foot retreated, but its owner’s threatening stare did not. “Say it”.

Reassuming his previous humiliating position, Eric decided he just should get it over with. He didn't want Mr Kitty getting hurt. “…I… I like…” His fingers clutched at the carpet under his palms. “…I like taking…dick…” He wanted to take it back, but it was too late. His cheeks felt like they had heated up, and he was probably blushing too. Only because of the inaccuracy of the statement he was cunningly forced to make, of course.

Eric wanted to break something. Preferably Scott’s ginger head. Yes, if he could jump on him and bash his head against the corner of the nightstand repeatedly until there was nothing left but a mangled, bloody mess… He would, eventually.

Scott’s previously crooked teeth were shown again as his smile broadened – that crazy son of a bitch was probably having the best time of his life. It looked like he was only one level away from pure bliss. “Very nice. Thank you for being so cooperative, Eric”. His thumb hit the screen once and the camera stopped recording.

“Alright, alright, what are you gonna do with that video now?” He demanded to know once he got on his feet.

“Nothing”.

“Yeah, right. And Kinny isn’t poor”. Did he honestly think Eric was so stupid he’d believe such an obvious lie?

“No, really. I don’t have a reason to blackmail you with it at the moment. But I do plan on using it in the future so you probably don’t want to get on my bad side”.

Eric needed to get his hands on that phone and delete the video at all costs. Before Scott created a backup somewhere else.

“You’re…” He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know if there was a term in the English language capable of capturing the wickedness of the person that fate had so cruelly chosen to supposedly tie him with by blood. “You’re such a huge prick, Scott!”

“But what would you do if you didn’t have me?”

“Well, for one, I’d sleep calmer at night”.

“ _And_ you’d have three fuming sixth graders on your back”.

It wasn’t very probable that those dimwits would have just forgotten about him, even if Mom had intervened the next day. So, in a very unfortunate and coincidental way, Scott was right. Not like Eric would ever admit that to him.

“…I hate you”.

“I hate you more”. The retaliation was out of place with the feigned smile Scott was giving him as he tucked the precious device away in his orange pants pocket.

His eyes continued to stare at the now full pocket on the older boy’s left hip, his mind already beginning to devise a plan. Eric would take that phone and then Scott will be sorry for making him say all those lies. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything for South Park, so I'd love to hear your comments! I tried to keep them in character, but if anyone seemed OOC to you, I'd like to know.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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